Censorship and resistance to it are violently colliding in Iranian cinema culture today. The government insists on policing norms of decorum through various censorships on every film. However, the resistance to censorship has never stopped. A number of activists and reformers of Iranian cinema take various actions through their works that are worked on under the shadow of totalitarian power. Not only in film, but in life off-camera, people are forced to self-censor their every action. The way women dress and the restrictions on their behavior under patriarchal power are no exception. Director Sreemoyee Singh through And, Towards Happy Alleys (2023) tries to dissect the ins and outs of Iranian cinema and socio-political conditions today through the footage she captured in his PhD research film project.
Director Singh’s fascination with Iranian cinema was simultaneous with her love for the works of Forough Farrokhzad, a female poet and filmmaker who delivered her work in a lovingly feminine touch. Her film The House is Black (1962), which metaphorically depicts the conditions of Iran at that time, became one of the most important works in the Iranian new wave movement. Her influence continued into the era of filmmakers Abbas Kiarostami and Jafar Panahi.
In each frame of footage, Director Singh creates an immersive space that presents each shot through the audience’s own perspective. However, it is not uncommon for her to restore the boundaries by reflecting the camera’s view back onto herself, revealing her with a handful of cameras. This is what happened when she sang “Soltane Ghalbha” at Jafar Panahi’s request inside an eyeglass shop. It is no different when she appears as the subject in front of the camera while interacting with some interviewees or singing with others in a car.
The song “Soltane Ghalbha,” sung melodiously by Director Singh continues to haunt us from the moment we hear it till a little longer after the film is over. The song narrates the contradictory pull of an ironic couple. The song, from the film of the same title, Soltane Ghalbha (1968), serves as a bridge, linking the realms of literature and cinema to the social reality that suppresses women’s freedom. From the fact that a woman’s voice is not allowed to be heard in a song to the way she dresses, which is strictly regulated by the state.
The montage of footage that continues to roll simultaneously stretches the narrative wider and wider in the frame of cinema. Various footage of demonstrations on Enghelab Street are shown in succession, accompanied by the cries of a mother grieving her son who became a martyr of the revolution. The series of conversations with sources is carefully stitched together, freely narrating details of the story that often go unseen behind the camera of Iranian cinema. Introductions to new interviewees such as Jafar Panahi, Aida Mohammadkhani, and Mina Mohammadkhani are presented in special detail through recreations of scenes from Taxi (2015), The White Balloon/Badkonake Sefid (1995), and The Mirror/Ayneh (1997), respectively.
Ethically, Director Singh also sought permission from the subjects her camera captured while filming. However, when they did not consent, the screen would go dark—the recording was stopped immediately. This is a form of personal censorship that Iranian filmmakers and the public utilize to resist binding rules. It is also what Mohammad Shirvani satirizes through his dark humor in his conversation with Director Singh at a window. Whenever he wants to talk about sexuality or eroticism in art, the drill being used for renovations next door becomes noisier. However, it goes silent when talking about religion. It’s as if the drill were an extension of the Ministry of Islamic Guidance’s censorship. “We keep censoring ourselves all the time,” he says.
The censorship of women’s bodies occurs not only in cinema but has become a rule in social reality. Iranian women are required to wear loose-fitting clothes, hijab, and veil. This absolute rule has sparked various resistance movements. However, the demonstrations and agitations often leave only memories and the fear of imprisonment. That is also why Nasrin Sotoudeh was imprisoned for her courageous defense of women’s freedom.
Director Singh’s camera could not always bring her together with all the people she wished to meet. Although she was able to get one step closer to Forough Farrokhzad by staying at the guesthouse she once rented. Unfortunately, she was only able to slip a letter under the door of Abbas Kiarostami’s house a week before she passed away. Her meeting with Nasrin Sotoudeh may have been her last, as a few days later she was detained by the authorities.
Much has changed in Iran today. The tenderness of love that is immortalized in literature and cinema, comes hand in hand and even intersects with literature and cinema of resistance. Politics and social movements seem inevitable in any work born from the grassroots. They are present and grow with the changing times and nature that are never predictable to the naked eye or camera. Explore Director Singh’s journey to uncover the treasures of Iranian cinema in And, Towards Happy Alleys (2023) featured in Utopia/Dystopia FFD 2024. (Ahmad Radhitya Alam) (Ed. Vanis/Trans. Naufal Shabri)
Film Details
And, Towards Happy Alleys (به كوچه خوشبخت)
Sreemoyee Singh | 75 Min | 2023 | India
Official Selection for Utopia/Dystopia
Festival Film Dokumenter 2024
Screening Schedule
Nov. 5 | 19:00 WIB | IFI-LIP
Nov. 8 | 13:00 WIB | Militaire Societeit, TBY